Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again
by Trust Gavroche
Summary: After a troublesome day that sends her mind reeling back to the past, and with Marius out on a work trip, Cosette visits her father's grave to grieve. Incredibly angsty. Inspired by "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" from Phantom of the Opera. Rated T just to be safe.


The days after Valjean died hadn't been easy for Cosette- they were more like living hell. Every single thing that she did, every movement, every thought, reminded her of some part of her father. It took her two weeks to even come to terms with the loss, and for a while afterwards she coped fine.

But today was different. Marius was on a rare-yet-unmissable work trip, and Cosette had just come back from feeding the poor and homeless at the market. It used to be an excursion she enjoyed, holding the arm of her Papa, exchanging money for food with the merchants, and giving to anyone who looked as if they might be in need.

Almost as soon as she had entered the market area and was met with the usual hubbub, a painfully skinny young girl with oily, dirty blonde hair and dirt smeared over almost all of her pale skin, much of which was visible through her tattered clothing. It was the standard appearance for most street children, but the thing that struck Cosette the most was that the girl was almost the spitting image of _her_ when she was that age, bare feet and all. The little girl held her hands out, shivering in the cold, wordlessly asking for money or food. The helplessness in her eyes was the final straw for Cosette, and she quickly shoved all she had brought into the trembling hands. She turned and ran back the way she came, missing the disbelief and gratitude in the street urchin's eyes.

Not bothering to take a carriage, and not paying any mind to her father's and Marius's warnings to not wander the streets of Paris all by her lonesome, it was a miracle Cosette made it back to the house she and Marius shared unscathed. She let herself in, locked the door, and sank to the floor. It had occurred to her, once or twice, how lucky she was to had Papa come to rescue her from that despicable inn. It wasn't the same as living on the street, but the starvation and treatment was very similar. She had been saved by some stroke of luck from God above, while that little girl, and hundreds of others, probably never would. The whole meaning of what that meant suddenly washed over Cosette, and she pressed her back against the door as tears flowed down her porcelain cheeks and dampened her green dress.

The sadness she felt for the little girl and her fate was soon joined by a new, all-too-familiar sadness, the kind she had grown used to over the course of the past few months. Grief for her father, the man who had saved her from abuse in the inn and had whispered her ear how much he loved her and how he'd never leave her.

_You were once my one companion_

_You were all that mattered_

_You were once a friend and father_

_Then my world was shattered_

Well, he had left her. Almost without thinking, Cosette shakily got to her feet, wiped her nose and dried her eyes with the handkerchief her father had given her last year enough to look presentable, and then stepped outside. She quickly hailed a carriage, and was thankful that the driver didn't ask any questions about her wretched appearance or her destination, which she had simply and curtly stated: "To the cemetery, please." There was no question as to what graveyard she meant- there was only one of them nearby, dating back hundreds of hundreds of years.

They soon arrived, and Cosette kept her head tipped downwards so the driver couldn't see much of her face, due to her bonnet. She paid him well, then stepped silently on the grass towards the cold iron fence, which was attached to a fence of the same metal that wrapped around the entire graveyard. The fence was always left slightly ajar, and Cosette's slim frame easily slipped through, meaning there was no need for physical effort to pull the heavy, squeaking fence open. She wrapped her arms wrapped around herself in an attempt to ward off the cold weather, which had been combined with the chilliness that the graveyard held. The grass was dead, and the trees bore few withered leaves, keeping with the dead landscape and eerily-silent feeling.

She knew her way to her father's grave by heart, as morbid as that seemed- she had nearly lived by it in the few weeks after his death. She still visited every Sunday after church, leaving his favorite flowers- plain, ordinary, beautiful wildflowers -on the tombstone.

_Wishing you were somehow here again_

_Wishing you were somehow near_

_Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed_

_Somehow you would be here_

Dead leaves crunched under her feet as Cosette picked her way over the the solemn gray stone. Arriving there, she shut her eyes and allowed the memories to wash over her for once. Memories of the two of them packing their belongings and fleeing in the middle of the night, that dream-like day when he rescued her, lessons by the fire, gardening in the convent, shopping in the market, sitting in the garden and simply talking, enjoying the other's presence...

Cosette could still hear his gentle yet firm, mellow yet rumbling voice in her ear- "_I love you, sweetness. There, there, my little lark. Shh, I won't hurt you. I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be here for you, Cosette…" _The words swirled around and around in her mind, and Cosette dropped to her knees and covered her face with her hands, stifling her sobs. A small part of her mind wished she had brought flowers.

_Wishing I could hear your voice again_

_Knowing that I never would_

_Dreaming of you won't help me to do_

_All that you dreamed I could_

It just wasn't _fair_, Cosette thought angrily. He had been good, he had been kind. He didn't deserve to die. He thought of others before himself. He went to church. Besides her lingering suspicion that he had a rough past with the law, he was basically the perfect citizen.

Foolishly, she had thought Papa would be here forever. She had known, deep down, that it was impossible, but that made no difference. There had been news of General Lamarque's death, of course, and people in their various, inconsistent neighborhoods had passed away, but it hadn't really occurred to her that one day, she'd be on her own. Although she had Marius, a husband was different from a father. Papa was _different_ from everyone else- he had seemed to have achieved an inside peace, a happiness, a kindness that was somehow different from everyone else's.

_Passing bells and sculpted angels_

_Cold and monumental_

_Seem for you the wrong companions_

_You were warm and gentle_

Cosette, curled up with her back against the chilly gravestone, was completely oblivious to her lack of dignity and the pins and needles in her legs. Snowflakes, each one perfectly unique and a dazzling white, seemed to insult her grieving as they fluttered down from the overcast sky in an angelic manner.

_Too many years fighting back tears_

_Why can't the past just die?_

She remembered, almost as if it were yesterday, the days she spent as a servant in that godawful inn, and that made her sob harder because if it wasn't for Papa, she'd probably still be there. Every detail, every painful memory. Every beating, every "accident," every harsh word. Everything...

Cosette lay there, on the ground, for hours. She relived every good memory they spent together, and every bad one, too- their little fights in which her temper got the better of her. Her heart throbbed with the pain and knowledge that he was never coming back, ever. No more kind words, no more warm embraces, no more Papa.

_Wishing you were somehow here again_

_Knowing we must say goodbye_

_Try to forgive, teach me to live_

_Give me the strength to try_

Finally, as the light dimmed, Cosette's tears subsided. The ache for her father, the only person before and besides Marius who had ever loved her was still there, lodged in her heart, but the physically-crushing tidal wave of grief seemed to have subsided. She'd reach a kind of acceptance, as most grieving people do, eventually. The sun's warmth had long begun to fade, as had the light, and so she shakily peeled her soggy dress and tear-stained limbs off the frigid ground, wondering briefly where all the snow had come from.

Wincing at the cramp in her stomach from all that crying, and the numbness of her legs and feet, Cosette gingerly made her way back to the cemetery's gate after casting a final, teary-eyed glance at her father's grave. She slipped through, once again, and, after walking for a bit, was able to find a carriage with a driver willing to take her all the way back to her house.

Her bonnet had fallen off somewhere in the cemetery, but thankfully this driver didn't ask any questions either, apparently putting her location and puffy red eyes together. He did, however, offer her a blanket to help the grieving young woman up, after noticing that her lips were blue. Cosette politely refused, but gave him a weary but heartfelt smile. She folded her hands in her lap and stared vacantly out the window the whole way home, digging her fingernails into her palm whenever grief for her father started to overwhelm her again.

The carriage pulled up at her house with an abrupt stop and a creak, and Cosette tipped the driver handsomely for his kindness. She briskly ascended the steps to the little adobe which she and Marius shared, in a hurry to get out of the cold.

Cosette was met with a blast of warm air from the living room fire and the welcoming arms of her husband.

"Marius!" she gasped in complete surprise, after he kissed her fiercely. "But you weren't supposed to be home until next week!"

He smiled, producing the dimples which she had fallen in love with months ago. "I know, but they cut the trip short. Are you okay?" He noticed her bleary face, which clearly advertised her heartbreak and crying.

She was, now. "I just miss him." It went without saying that "him" was her Papa.

"It'll be okay, Cosette. I'm sure he's watching over us right, now, smiling. It's going to be okay."

_No more memories, no more silent tears_

_No more gazing across the wasted years_

_Help me say goodbye..._

_Help me say goodbye_


End file.
